


There's More To Living (Than Being Alive)

by starlight_starbright



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve, Breakfasts, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, Dirty Talk, Endearments, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair Washing, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sex, Pancakes, Praise Kink, Protective Bucky Barnes, Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Referenced Torture, Showers, Steve Has Some Sass, Steve Is Really Fucking Beat Up, Top Bucky, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If I’d known all I had to do was get beat up for you to come find me, I’d’ve done it months ago, Buck.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's More To Living (Than Being Alive)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Anberlin.

Everything is dark when Steve finally gets back to his floor in Stark Tower covered in blood and alien guts and smelling of something fierce. Making a beeline for the bathroom, he strips out of his suit, pulls on sweatpants, and drops his shield in the doorway with a dull _thud_. Loki had been fucking shit up again, trying to take over Earth with his aliens and armoured flying fish. Thor has his hands full with that one, that’s for sure.

Tony had been the one to save Steve’s life this time. Steve had been clearing out a building when a squadron of the aliens had blocked him in. Fifty assailants were a little much even for a super soldier, especially when that super soldier had already been beat to hell and back. No one had known where he was, his comm was down, and he had no way of escape. When he had finally had to jump out of the building, he’d landed hard on his shield, opening the wounds his body had been healing. Stark had been flying around the corner when he found Steve, broken and bleeding, surrounded with no way of escape.

He hates to admit that he owes Stark his life.

Over the course of the last three years, though, he’s been able to see Tony in a different light. He cares for people, he really does, he just doesn’t always know how to express it around that macho-man, sarcastic exterior. Steve has had to come to terms with the fact that Tony Stark is not, in fact, Iron Man—however much he himself wants to believe that. Steve feels like maybe they’re starting to become friends, especially after today. Tony was _worried_. Actually worried, which he never is unless something’s wrong with Pepper.

It’s starting to feel like a real team now, which is something Steve never expected. All of these . . . super heroes coming together to fight for the good of not just America, but the entire world wasn’t something Steve saw coming, but it _is_ something that he’s glad happened. These people—Nat, Clint, Sam, Bruce, Thor, Tony, and Pepper—they’ve become his friends. He’s glad for it. Especially after everything with Bucky, Natasha’s been doggedly loyal to Steve. She’s dug up files and intel to help Steve find his best friend. It hasn’t gone anywhere, not really, but Steve’s looking. He’s looking because Bucky pulled him out of the water—saved his life—and that has to mean something. It has to mean that he _remembers_ something, and Natasha has been Steve’s rock through all of it.

But right now, he’s wishing he’d taken Natasha up on her offer to give him stitches. He had brushed her off, saying he could do it himself. He still doesn’t like other people coming at him with needles—not after all the hospitals when he was small and all the injections for the serum. He grabs his first aid kit out from under the sink and sits in the toilet seat, grimacing. It hurts—everything hurts—and he’s getting blood everywhere. Slowly, methodically, he cleans and stitches a wound on his thigh. He doesn’t take painkillers for it—they’d just wear off—so it hurts, but it’s nothing he can't handle.

He stitches up a few more lacerations before getting to the big one on his chest. It’s still leaking blood profusely, so Steve has to hold a towel to it and put pressure on it. He’s forcing himself to breathe deeply, knowing that if he doesn’t, he’ll start to hyperventilate and possible pass out. And no one wants to walk in to a bloody bathroom and see Captain America passed out on the floor in a puddle of his own blood.

There’s a noise from his bedroom and he stiffens. He’d instructed JARVIS not to let anyone in and none of the alarms had gone off. Grabbing his shield, he inches out of the bathroom, eyes darting around the darkness of his bedroom. The window is open. Shit. He methodically checks over every inch of his floor—kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms . . . nothing. But when he comes back into his room, someone is standing in the darkness. Steve flicks a lamp on, determined to face this head on—tired beyond belief and really not up to any more shenanigans.

But it’s Bucky.

It’s Bucky and he’s here. His hair is dirty and matted and his face is drawn and pale. There are bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep and his clothes are torn, but other than that, he looks okay. Pale blue eyes find Steve’s and before he knows what’s going on, Bucky is on him—mismatched arms clutching Steve close. A small groan of pain escapes Steve’s throat and Bucky flinches back immediately.

“I saw the news,” he says, voice hoarse from disuse. “Are you okay?” Steve doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s spent months looking for Bucky and as soon as Steve gets fucked up in a fight, Bucky shows up in his room.

“If I’d known all I had to do was get beat up for you to come find me, I’d’ve done it months ago, Buck.” Bucky frowns, eyes dark. 

“Are you _okay_?” He asks again, voice sharp. Both of his hands, metal and flesh, are on Steve—his shoulders, his chest, his arms.

“Do I look okay?” Steve asks, sharper than he means to and Bucky flinches. “Hey,” he says, reaching out to touch the side of Bucky’s face. “Hey, Buck. Yeah. Hey.” Bucky crumbles into Steve’s arms, shaking. It’s like their roles are reversed and it hits Steve hard.

“I remember everything,” he mumbles after a while. Steve’s chest swells. Bucky remembers. He remembers Steve. He remembers _this_.

“Good, Buck. That’s good.” No matter how much he loves holding Bucky like this, Steve is still bleeding and he needs to take care of that. “Look, I gotta take care of this,” he says, pulling away and gesturing at his chest and the blood on Bucky’s beat up jacket. Bucky’s eyes widen and he takes Steve’s hand and leads him into the bathroom, but stops short in the doorway.

“You said you were _okay_ ,” Bucky hisses. Steve looks at him apologetically with a small smile.

“I never said that.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but the worry is still there—the concern. It’s almost like Steve is small again. Bucky sits Steve down and takes the damp washcloth from the sink, moping up the congealed blood from Steve’s chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky mutters when Steve winces. “You got any painkillers?” Bucky asks, picking up the needle.

“They don’t work,” Steve replies, watching his best friend’s face carefully. Bucky has more reason to hate needles than he does, yet he’s willing to pick one up for Steve.

“This is gonna hurt,” Bucky warns, and Steve knows.

 “Lucky I got such a pretty fella stichin’ me up.” Bucky huffs a laugh and gets to work, methodically moving the needle in and out of broken skin. It hurts like hell, but Bucky is as careful as possible and for that, Steve’s grateful. He’s so used to people treating him like just because he’s Captain America he can't feel pain, but Bucky knows Steve better than everyone else combined and he’s used to patching Steve up. Steve watches the brunettes face as he works, memorising every line—he doesn’t know if Bucky’s going to stay or leave, but if he leaves, Steve want’s to remember this. 

“Stop lookin’ at me like I'm a ghost,” Bucky says quietly, startling Steve so bad he jumps. Bucky growls in frustration. “Hold the fuck still,” he grumbles. Steve tries not to laugh, but Bucky’s brow is furrowed and his tongue is sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he works and it’s just too adorable. Suddenly Steve feels like he wants to cry. Bucky is here. Bucky is taking care of him just like he used to.

“Is this real?” he whispers. Bucky’s eyes flick up to meet his and then look back down at the stitches he’s applying. Steve is suddenly back in the thirty’s when Bucky used to have this exact same look on his face patching Steve up after he’d gotten into a fight.

“I hope so because if not you're probably passed out somewhere from blood loss. Seriously Steve, you do the stupidest shit. I saw you jump out of that building.” Steve sighs and Bucky ties off the thread.

“I missed you,” Steve breathes and Bucky kneels between his legs, hands on Steve’s thighs. “God, Bucky, I missed you so much. I thought you were dead and then I saw you on the bridge and . . . and you didn’t _know_ me. But that was okay, as long as you were alive. But you _weren’t_. What they did . . . I want to kill every single one of them. I want to rip them apart.” Bucky makes an approving noise deep in his throat.

“Steve,” he says like he’s testing the name on his tongue.

“I love you,” Steve says softly. “You said you remember everything, but I . . . I don’t think I've ever said that. I think you knew, but—” Bucky cuts him off with a kiss and _God_ did Steve miss this. Bucky’s lips are warm under his and his hands are everywhere, clutching at every inch of Steve he can get a hold of. Steve presses their foreheads together and breathes deeply, eyes squinted shut.

 “You told me once,” Bucky murmurs, eyes still closed. “I think you thought I was asleep. After . . . during the war. After you came for me. That first night back at camp.” Steve’s breath catches—he _had_ thought Bucky was asleep. “But I heard you. You told me you loved me. And I . . . Steve, I love you too.” Steve flounders for words. Bucky _heard_ him. All these years Steve had thought Bucky died not knowing and now here he is, saying he knew. He knew and he loves Steve back. Steve has no words—no words to describe the way his heart is clenching and his pulse is racing.

“Bucky—” Bucky kisses him softly, cradling Steve’s face in his hands. 

“C’mon,” Bucky says. “Let’s get this blood off of you.” Steve nods, close to tears. It’s a miracle. A fucking miracle that he and Bucky are here together and that Bucky remembers him and he’s not going to waste one moment of this.

“Buck—” Steve starts to protest, seeing that Bucky is reaching for Steve’s pants. 

“I know I don’t have to,” Bucky replies, looking sincere. “I _want_ to get these pants off of you and I _want_ to help you shower and I _want_ you to wash my hair and I _want_ you to stop being a stubborn little shit for just _one fucking second_ so we can enjoy being together like this again.” And, well, Steve can't argue with that, so he lets Bucky rid him of his pants and then helps Bucky out of his own clothes. He looks perfect naked—always has—and Steve takes great pleasure in telling him so.

“ _God_ ,” Steve mutters at the first touch of skin on skin.

“Hush, baby,” Bucky says, using a clean washcloth to wash the blood from Steve’s body. It feels wonderful to have Bucky pressed against him like this—Steve’s back to Bucky’s front—and so Steve allows himself to be taken care of even though he doesn’t need it anymore. “Jesus, Stevie. Just as pretty as I remember.” Steve groans, dropping his head back on Bucky’s shoulder. Warm hands ghost over the v of his hips, teasing him. “Fucking _responsive_ ,” the brunette growls in his ear, taking Steve’s dick in his hand. “God, babydoll. I missed this. As soon as I remembered who you were I knew two things—that I loved you and that I wanted to fuck you.” Steve laughs.

“Charming, Buck.” Bucky squeezes and Steve’s breath stutters.

“You haven’t seen charming, Stevie.” Steve whines when Bucky lets him go, but he settles for washing Bucky’s hair. He massages the shampoo into the brunette’s scalp, fingers working slowly. Bucky’s eyes are closed, red lips parted. He’s so beautiful it makes Steve’s heart ache. They’ve lost so much time and Steve still feels like it’s his fault.

“You had your arms stretched out as you fell,” Steve murmurs. Once the words are out, they don’t stop coming. “You trusted me to protect you, to keep you safe. We . . . I couldn’t save you. And I looked for you, I did. But they got you first. There was no body. God, I should have _known_.” Steve’s voice breaks around the tears, but he can't stop. He can't stop talking and he can't stop running his fingers through Bucky’s soapy hair. “We were supposed to be together—till the end of the line—

“Steve—”

“—and I couldn’t catch you. I couldn’t even find you after I knew you were alive. I tracked down all the leads Natasha gave me. I _tried_ , Buck. You have to believe that. I just didn’t try hard enough.” Bucky looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He knows that Steve needs to get this out. He moves Bucky under the water to wash his hair out. “You know, when I put that jet in the ice, I was hoping we’d be together again. I used to have these dreams when I was under—dreams about you and me, having kids and growing old together. And when they thawed me out, I _hated_ them for it. I went kind of . . . suicidal for a while. Jumping out of planes without parachutes and going for days without eating or sleeping. I have nightmares—awful nightmares. And I would throw myself into fights, knowing that at least if I died, we’d be together again.”

“Steve—” Bucky tries again, but Steve is too far gone.

“But then you were in front of me. God, you were right fuckin’ there and you didn’t know me. _Who the hell is Bucky?_ It broke my heart. But I had hope—you had to be in there somewhere. Somewhere under the Winter Soldier was the man I loved—I knew it. I would have died on that helicarrier. I would have died rather than hurt you. It killed me—when I was choking you. The goddamn _noises_ you made . . . I was prepared to let you kill me. But . . . you pulled me out of the water, Bucky. You pulled me out and I knew you had remembered me. You remembered _something_ and I looked and looked. I drove myself crazy lookin’ for you. And then you fuckin’ show up in my room.” Steve presses his hands to Bucky’s shoulder. _This is real,_ he tells himself. “I can't . . . Bucky, tell me this is real. I can't believe it, Buck. I can't. It’ll kill me if I let myself believe it’s real and you leave again.” Bucky sighs and turns the water off, dragging Steve out of the shower to dry him off. Steve wishes he were small again so he could hide in those strong arms.

“I looked out for you,” Bucky whispers into Steve’s neck. “I watched you these past months. Making sure you were okay, ready to jump into a fight if I needed to. It all came back so fast . . . and it _hurt_. It hurt to stay away from you, but I had to get myself together first.” Bucky takes Steve’s face in his hands and looks him right in the eyes. “I never want you to put your life on the line again like you did today. I just got you back, I’m not going to lose you again. We’re going to grow old together this time, Stevie.” Steve’s broken heart is glued back together with those words. This man . . . this man in front of him with the metal arm and the long dark hare and the steel blue eyes. This man is his heartbeat, the blood in his veins, the air he breathes. This man means everything to him.

“Bucky—”

“Next time they call you in, I'm going to be right there at your six. No questions.” Steve nods and lets himself smile.

“I love you so much, Bucky. You have to know that.” Bucky nuzzles into Steve’s neck, kissing softly.

“I know, baby. I know. I love you, too.” Steve gapes at him and realisation floods Bucky’s features. “You thought . . .? You thought I didn’t. _Goddamn it Steve._ I love you more than I’ve loved anything. I love you so much it scares me. It scared me then, it scares me now. I’d do anything for you. _God_ , you thought I didn’t. It’s wrong for me to love you, Steve. I’m bad for you in so many ways. But I'm fuckin’ stupid in love with you, baby. You have no idea.” Steve dives in and kisses him hard, nipping at his lips and shoving his tongue in his mouth. Its absolutely _filthy_ , but Bucky moans so loud that Steve doesn’t fucking care.

“If it’s anywhere close to how much I love _you_ , I think I get it,” he says when he pulls away to catch his breath. “I’ve loved you since we were six years old. I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think you could want me. What, with me being so fucked up. I thought . . . after the serum . . . that maybe you could want me.” Steve finds himself thrown on the bed with an angry Bucky Barnes pressing him into the mattress.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare say that you were anything less than everything I’ve ever wanted. I never cared that you were sick. Never cared that you were small and had scoliosis and couldn’t hear all that well or couldn’t see all that well or couldn’t breathe all that well. The only thing I ever cared about was you being safe and healthy and Jesus God, Steve. You were everything. You were everything then and you're everything now. Don’t ever fuckin’ doubt that.” Steve swallows hard against the lump in his throat. Bucky’s here. Bucky loves him. He loved him then, he loves him now, and he’s naked in Steve’s bed.

“Can I . . .?” Steve asks, not expecting much. Bucky cracks a smile. 

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” Bucky murmurs, leaning down to capture Steve’s mouth with his own. The brunette moves to straddle Steve’s hips, bracing himself with both hands splayed across Steve’s chest. Their cocks rub together deliciously and Steve moans. “Sweet as sugar,” Bucky mumbles between kisses. “God, babydoll. Gonna be the death of me.” Steve is writhing, already feeling the tell-tale warmth spreading through his belly. “So pretty for me Stevie. Fuck, I missed this. Get you all to myself tonight, yeah?” Steve nods before arching his hips into Bucky’s, hissing at the contact.

“Bucky, _please_ ,” he begs. He needs this. He needs Bucky inside of him, filling him up and reminding him that he’s _here_ —that this is real. Bucky rolls his hips and Steve almost screams, coming hard between their bodies.

“Jesus, Steive. Yeah, come for me, sugar.” Steve whines, breathless with the force of his orgasm and Bucky continues to rut against him until he spills over Steve. But it doesn’t stop there. Bucky kisses down Steve’s body to lap up their mingling come before shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat. He moans at the taste of himself on Bucky’s tongue, nails digging in to his lover’s hips. “You taste so sweet, baby, fuck.” Steve kisses Bucky hard. It feels _electric_ —like all of Steve’s nerves are on fire at the overwhelming love in Bucky’s eyes.

“Get the fuck on with the fucking already,” Steve grumbles, blushing when Bucky laughs. “Make me forget all the years without you. _Please_.” Bucky runs a hand through Steve’s hair and tugs lightly.

“Lube?” Steve twists to get to the nightstand and tosses Bucky a bottle. The older man wastes no time, getting two fingers into Steve and stretching him just on the right side of rough. “Always liked it when I fingered you,” Bucky croons, his metal hand running down Steve’s unbruised side. “Some things never change.” Steve looks up at him and he’s beautiful—dark hair falling into his face, blue eyes bright, and a misting of sweat settling over his chest. He adds another finger and Steve groans, fed up with the prep. He pulls Bucky down and grabs his cock, leading it to his hole.

“Please, Buck. I'm ready.” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Eager, Stevie?”

“It’s been seventy fucking years since I had your dick in me. I’m pretty sure it’s something to look forward too and I'm sick of waiting.” Bucky laughs and kisses Steve’s nose. Scowling, Steve bites at Bucky’s neck. The sharp intake of breath signifies that Steve has won, that Bucky is giving in. Steve’s body, even though it’s gone unused for so long, seems to remember Bucky’s body, allowing him in easily. There’s a little bit of a burn because Bucky is _big_ , but it’s a good burn. Something Steve can get used to.

“Pretty baby,” Bucky soothes, stroking his flesh hand over the v of Steve’s hips. “So good for me, Stevie. So good.” He rocks his hips and Steve sees stars. He hasn’t felt like this in decades and he’s not sure how much of it he can take. He more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.

“More, Bucky. C’mon, _fuck me_.” Steve barely recognises his own voice—it’s so wrecked with arousal and raspy from the noises being ripped out of him. Bucky doesn’t tease, just murmurs filthy things and endearments as he picks up his pace. Their hips are meeting almost painfully now and the pressure is building and building and _building_ and Steve feels like he’s going to explode. Bucky has his hands pinned to the bed, fingers entwined, kissing him every now and then between the moans and gasps and ramblings of love and encouragement.

“Oh, god, Steve. _Steve._ ” Bucky’s eyes are squeezed shut, thrusting faster than should be legal, and Steve flexes his inner walls making them tighten around Bucky’s cock. “’M gonna come, Steve. God you're so fuckin’ good. Gonna make me come. Steve—” Bucky comes first, spilling hot and wet inside of Steve. He continues fucking into Steve, rubbing against his prostate until Steve explodes between their bodies for the second time. His chest is heaving, eyes sliding closed and he’s pretty sure he passed out for a few minutes because when he opens his eyes, he’s clean and under the covers with two hundred pounds of Bucky Barnes wrapped around him and half on top of him.

“Don’t leave me,” Steve begs, needing the reassurance that Bucky is going to be here when he wakes up.

“Never, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. ‘Till the end of the line.” Steve smiles, nuzzling into his—boyfriend’s? partner’s?—chest, humming contentedly.

“Love you,” he mumbles against hot skin. He focuses on Bucky’s heartbeat, on the warm flesh arm and slightly colder metal arm wrapped around him.

“I love you too, baby. Go to sleep.” Steve opens his eyes to look up at Bucky, sleepily trying to look intimidating.

“Stay,” he says seriously. Bucky smiles and kisses him.

“Sir yes sir.” Steve snorts a laugh and drops his head back to the other man’s chest. “I might even make you breakfast.” Steve smiles, letting himself be comforted. He’s warm and completely fucked out and comfortable here with Bucky.

And Bucky’s going to make breakfast. It’s a good life.

-

Steve’s phone buzzing is what wakes him up. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows, warming his naked back. He takes a few moments to breathe in the moment. Steve is still asleep, sprawled over three-fourths of the king sized bed and taking up way more space than necessary. It’s adorable—he’s adorable. Bucky is glad he made the decision to manifest himself last night. He almost hadn’t, but the need to make sure Steve was okay had weighed out the need to stay in the shadows. It always would. 

And he had promised to stay, so no matter what, he was going to stay. For better or worse. He had promised, and James Buchannan Barnes keeps his promises. Especially to Steve—always to Steve. Bucky will always be loyal to Steve. So, like he promised, he gets up to make breakfast. Steve’s phone buzzes again, so Bucky reaches over to grab it. Not bothering to read the texts—three from Natasha, one from Sam—he turns it on silent so Steve can sleep. Bucky’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s slept through the night since he found out Bucky was alive and _nothing_ is going to disturb that.

He wanders into the kitchen and pulls out all the ingredients for pancakes. He also grabs eggs and bacon out of the fridge and gets to work, humming to himself. It’s domestic—something he’d never think would describe him. The Winter Soldier, here, in Captain America’s kitchen, making pancakes and eggs and bacon _naked_. It’d almost be funny if the road here hadn’t been so _tragic_. But he’s here now. He’s here, and he had mind-blowing sex last night with the man he loves and he’s not giving this up. Fuck HYDRA and fuck SHIELD and fuck anyone who tries to take him away from Steve—not gonna fuckin’ happen.

Bucky makes giant pancakes and only burns two, which is a record. He makes coffee and sets all the food on the table before tip-toeing into the bedroom to wake Steve. This time, the blonde is spread out over the entire bed, lying diagonally. Bucky sighs happily and drinks in the scene before padding over to the bed and pounces on Steve. Steve wakes with a cry that turns into a laugh—real, head thrown back laughter. 

“Fuck you, Bucky Barnes. You almost gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.” Bucky laughs, dizzy with love and happiness. More emotion than he’s felt for seventy years. “’Mere, ya mook,” Steve murmurs, pulling Bucky down for a kiss. Before it can get heated, Bucky pulls away.

“Pancakes!” he calls, pulling on Steve’s sweatpants from the night before. Steve sits up, hair sticking up in all directions and just laughs harder. “Get the fuck out of bed, Rogers.” Steve gets out of bed obediently, pulling a pair of gym shorts out of a drawer and following Bucky into the kitchen. The food is good, Steve is beautiful, and it feels good to have him here like this. They can't keep their hands off of each other, though, so they end up on the floor—which is very uncomfortable, not that Bucky’s complaining. They sprawl on the couch after, basking in the warmth of fuzzy blankets and body heat. Steve’s fingers are carding through his now detangled, soft hair and Bucky feels tired again.

He’s about to fall asleep and he finally feels safe. Finally. After seventy years. It’s novel, really, how safe this man can make him feel with his toothy grin and smart mouth and warm arms. Him, an ex-assassin, feels safe being held by Captain America. How fucking ironic.


End file.
